Still Alive
by Sheena Is A Punk Rocker
Summary: The TARDIS is worried about her Thief and the only way to help is through Martha Jones. Can Martha help The Doctor? Post-42, slight hints of Ten/Martha.
1. Still Alive

"My thief! He needs you, of course he needs you."

Martha had been sleeping peacefully in her room on the TARDIS when _that_ happened. She thought it was just a dream, especially when the voice said, "The Doctor stole me? That's what you wanted to ask. I stole him. And he stole me. He's my thief."

Martha was extremely confused now. What a strange dream. She opened her eyes slowly, and realized the voice was still there. It was a woman's voice, and it sounded so familiar, but she couldn't figure out why.

The voice said, "You know me. We travel together. Now go, help my thief!"

It took Martha a few seconds before she said, "The TARDIS?"

"Ah yes. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. That's me. I'm the TARDIS."

"But—"

"I couldn't use my usual method of communication. You wouldn't have woken up. Now go."

It was then that Martha registered that the TARDIS had told her that The Doctor was in trouble, and she was out of bed in a flash.

The TARDIS guided her to the right door and when she got there, she could hear what sounded like muffled crying.

She pushed the door open quietly, so as not to startle him, but found that she needn't have worried. He was still asleep—though he clearly wasn't sleeping well. He turned his head to the side and Martha could hear him repeating her name. "I'll save you!" He whimpered in his sleep. He turned on his side as he tried to reach for her.

Martha stood in the doorway with a worried frown on her face. "Doctor, I'm safe," she said, trying to reassure him. She watched as his face seemed to crumple in his sleep. Moving closer to the bed, Martha touched his shoulder gently. "Doctor, it's okay. It's just a nightmare."

The Doctor recoiled from her touch. "I couldn't—Mrs. Jones—" His eyes were still shut and Martha tilted her head. She expected him to wake up at that touch. Maybe kick her out of his room. Now, she was worried. What if that sun had done some damage to him?

"My mother what?" Martha climbed into the bed and ran her fingers through the Doctor's hair soothingly, like her mother used to do. "Doctor, just wake up, all right? I'm fine. We're both safe and sound."

He seemed to relax with her running her fingers through his hair so she continued to do it. His forehead was soaked with sweat, which was worrying since she knew his core body temperature was cooler than the average human. _Had_ the sun done any lasting damage?

She squeaked in surprise when a pair of long arms snaked around her. The Doctor's eyes were open and he was looking at her in relief. "You're alive," he breathed.

"Yes, I am. You were having a nightmare," Martha replied with a small smile.

The Doctor let out a sigh of relief and hugged her close. "You're alive," he mumbled again.

Martha tentatively reached up to run her fingers through his hair again. He relaxed against her as she did so. "Want to talk about it?" She asked quietly.

The Doctor didn't reply but relaxed as Martha's fingers worked their magic. He didn't want to tell her anything. He would prefer to think about something else—anything else.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Martha said, "How about I tell you why I'm becoming a doctor?" She planned on getting him to talk but for now, she would distract him.

She looked to see his brown eyes staring up at her. "Sure."

Martha smiled at him as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. "It all started when I was six and Leo and I were playing." Her eyes drifted as she recalled the memory. The Doctor studied his companion as she told him about how she'd fallen out of a tree and broken her arm. He could tell that, despite the pain associated with the broken arm, she treasured that memory. She had looked at her x-rays at the doctor's office and had been absolutely fascinated by them. She had asked her doctor lots of questions that day—and from that day on, she was dead set on becoming a doctor.

The Doctor knew his companion would make a wonderful doctor. She was compassionate and attentive and was always taking care of him and the people they encountered. He remembered the first day he met her. She had assured him that she would find a way out of this mess and hadn't lost her head once. He was kicking himself for how he treated her after that.

This nightmare of his though—as terrifying as it was, it was a wake-up call for him. He truly _did_care about Martha and he didn't know what he'd do without her.

Very quietly, he said, "I... had a nightmare." He looked up at Martha and saw her nodding at him to continue. "I didn't save you. I _couldn't_ save you and I had to tell your mother why her daughter wasn't coming home."

Martha saw tears welling up in eyes again and it broke her heart. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I'm all right. I promise."

The Doctor rested his head against her shoulder. He was still trying to process his nightmare. It had felt so real. But Martha was here. She was alive and she was here with him.

"Want me to stay with you?" Martha asked quietly. Even if he said no, she would insist on staying anyway.

He nodded and moved to lie back down in the middle of the bed. Martha curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest, pleased to hear that his heartbeats were back to normal.

The Doctor wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly as he drifted off to sleep with a mumbled, "Thank you" to his companion.

She smiled before she drifted off too.

Neither one of them noticed the happy hum of the TARDIS. She was happy for her beautiful idiot and his doctor.

* * *

**A/N**: Hello Pretty! Yes, you're all "Pretty" now. Well, um... yeah, this idea just popped into my head and I decided now was a good time to start writing for the DW fandom. Ten/Martha is my OTP of OTPs and there have been quite a few fics about the aftermath of "42" for Martha but I've never seen one for The Doctor, so hope I did okay. I'd like to thank the lovely Hoshi Gin Tsukino for writing a fair amount of this fic. I just took what she wrote and modified it and added to it. Oh, and the title is a song by Social Distortion.

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, I don't own Doctor Who. I wish I did, but I don't. Social Distortion owns the title.


	2. Asleep and Dreaming

**A/N**: So... this was only supposed to be a one-shot but then my muse had other ideas so it's gonna be a three-shot instead! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Doctor Who, The Doctor and Martha would be together right now and I wouldn't want to punch Ten in the face so much in season 3.

* * *

Martha sighed as she walked through the corridors to the maid quarters. It had been a long, tiring day filled with one too many racist remarks. _It's just the time period. It's just the time period_. She repeated that to herself as she walked. Still didn't make the remarks sting any less.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when she heard the muffled sound of crying coming from her right. She was passing by John Smith's room. Remembering the last time The Doctor had a nightmare, Martha sprung into action. She opened the door quietly, so as not to startle him if he was awake. Of course, he wasn't. He was tossing and turning on his bed, forehead soaked in sweat—and he was calling her name. "Martha. Martha! I'll save you!"

Martha walked over to his side and shook him gently. "Doc—" she stopped herself. "Sir, wake up!"

He jolted awake and looked around frantically. He seemed to be unaware of his surroundings.

She put her hands on his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bed gently. "Shhh. You're all right. You were having a nightmare."

He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wild. "Martha. Y-you're alive."

She smiled at him gently. "Yes, I am alive."

John sat up in bed and took a deep breath. "Y-you died in my dream," he said quietly. He was looking down at his lap.

"Want to talk about?" Martha asked, having a pretty good idea what the nightmare was about.

"You'd think I was mad," John said with a bitter laugh.

"Was it about The Doctor?"

"Yes. It was." It took some prodding, but eventually John revealed to his maid what his dream was about. She was his companion and he was The Doctor and he couldn't save her from falling into the living sun.

By the end of his recollection, John was fighting back tears and he was shaking slightly. He truly did care about Martha Jones. She had always taken care of him—both in reality and these dreams he had where he was The Doctor. He knew what other people said about her—simply for looking different. He thought she was beautiful.

Of course, it would be wildly inappropriate for him to tell her that. Sometimes though—sometimes, he just wanted to say to hell with it all and kiss her. For now though, he kept silent—he wasn't sure for how much longer.

Martha sat down on the edge of the bed and reached up to run her fingers through his hair. John closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. His maid quickly drew her hand back. "I'm sorry sir, that was inappropriate."

"No, no, I don't mind," he protested. "In fact, I quite enjoy it." It relaxed him and he was still on edge from the nightmare.

Martha hesitated but after a few seconds, she brought her hand back to run her fingers through his hair again.

* * *

The next night, Martha found herself in the same position—and the night after that and the night after. It seemed that the nightmares were recurring, and getting worse.

By the fifth night, she knew exactly what to do. She woke Mr. Smith up and then ran her fingers through his hair until he fell back to sleep. This time though, John grabbed her hand before she could leave.

Martha looked down at him. The blanket was pulled up to his chin and he was staring up at her with those wide brown eyes of his. "Could... Could you... possibly stay tonight?" He was timid—afraid she would reject him.

She didn't _want _to, but... "I'm... I'm sorry, sir, but people will talk if I'm not in my bed." It was the sad truth. Martha wished she could say to hell with it all and stay and comfort him because that was her nature. But they both needed to keep their jobs until the end of the semester.

John's face fell. "Right. You're absolutely right. Silly old me."

Martha's heart broke. "It's not that I don't _want_ to, it's just—"

"No, no. I understand." He forced a smile. "Thank you, Martha."

She smiled sadly and leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. "Goodnight sir. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Martha."

* * *

John sighed as he reached up to touch the spot where Martha had kissed him. He cursed the time period he lived in. Of course people would frown upon the thought of Martha staying in his room—even for a night. Nevermind the fact that she was simply comforting him. And it wasn't even because she was his maid. No, it was because she simply looked different.

As sad as that thought made him, he wouldn't be the reason she lost her job. He would never be able to forgive himself if that happened.

Sometimes he wished he actually _was_ that mad time traveler with the big blue box. He wouldn't have to worry about society judging him and he would be able to show Martha the stars.

* * *

The next night was different. When Martha walked into John Smith's room, he was in the middle of another nightmare—that hadn't changed. But what he said _had_ changed.

"Martha! Martha, I love you." It was quiet, so quiet that she thought she must have misheard him. But then he repeated it. "Martha, I'm so sorry. I love you."

She didn't have to wake him up this time either. His eyes flew open and he sat up, gasping for breath. Then his eyes landed on her and he let out a sigh of relief. "You're alive."

"I am," she said, feeling a bit awkward after hearing what she had just heard. She hated the way that her heartbeat sped up. She would _not_ get her hopes up. This was John Smith. He was _not_ The Doctor, even though they looked exactly the same. He probably wouldn't remember anything about 1913 once she gave him the watch to open and he would go back to comparing her to Rose and ignoring her feelings for him.

Martha sat down on the edge of the bed as John recounted this new nightmare to her. It started out the same, he said, but the ending was different. He saved her from the burning sun but she ended up dying in some other way. "You were dying in my arms, Martha. And I—I had to tell you..." he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. "I had to tell you that I care about you. And I truly do, Martha."

He ducked his head and blushed furiously. Martha closed her eyes and reminded herself not to get her hopes up. "I—I'm sorry, sir, but—"

"It's inappropriate, I know," John was quick to say. "But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I care about you, Martha Jones. I don't expect you to feel the same way, but well, now you know."

She wasn't sure how to respond. Finally, after a minute of awkward silence, she said, "I—I have to go." And then she was gone.

* * *

From that point on, things got a bit awkward for both of them. Martha only spoke to him when she absolutely needed to and her nightly visits ceased. He felt horrible for messing everything up. He shouldn't have said anything about his feelings for her.

Unfortunately, the nightmares were still there. They weren't a nightly occurrence, but they happened often enough that he wished that Martha still checked up on him. And then he met Nurse Redfern.

She was nice enough and clearly attracted to him. He couldn't say that he felt the same way, but he decided that it would be nice to have a friend.

Nurse Redfern was fixing up his head after that nasty tumble down the stairs. He couldn't help but wince and wish that Martha was the one fixing him up. She always seemed to know what to do, even though she'd never received any proper training. John remembered his dreams of The Doctor and his companion—Dr. Martha Jones. Or almost doctor, anyway. She was a brilliant medical student in his dreams.

He was brought out of his musings when Martha rushed into his room, out of breath. Clearly she had sprinted in her haste to make sure he was okay. He was touched to know that she still cared.

Martha asked if Nurse Redfern had checked for a concussion and John had to force himself not to say anything when he heard Joan's response. He knew that she was nurse and Martha was just a maid, but Martha had patched him up on more than one occasion and he trusted her with his life.

He rambled mindlessly as Martha tidied up his things—about his adventures as The Doctor in his dreams. However, as soon as she left the room, he said quietly and calmly, "Matron, I'll kindly ask you not to speak to my maid that way again."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. She was only worried about me." With that, he stood up and walked out of the room.

* * *

Martha found herself outside John's room later that night. She could hear his muffled cries and she felt a pang of guilt. She had been ignoring his nightmares since he admitted his feelings for her but after today, she had realized she couldn't do that anymore. It just wasn't in her nature. She _had_ to take care of him.

She pushed the door open and walked over to his bed, shaking him awake gently.

"Martha," he breathed. "I—"

She put a finger over his lips to quiet him. "I know I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry—but I just couldn't stand there and listen to you suffering."

"You're a good person, Martha. I hope you know that."

She could feel herself blush. "I—I should go. I just wanted to check up on you. Good night, sir."

Before he could answer, she was gone.

* * *

John Smith's days were spent trying to distract himself from his feelings for Martha. Nurse Redfern proved to be an adequate distraction—during the day anyway.

At night, he was reminded of how much he cared about Martha all over again when she came to check up on him. He was having the nightmare less and less often, but Martha still checked on him every single night. He had to keep reminding himself that it was inappropriate to kiss her.

That's how the rest of the term went—until everything changed. It was the night of the dance and Martha seemed to have gone completely mad. She was telling him that he actually _was_ The Doctor and that it was time for him to change back. She kept saying that all he had to do was open the watch.

Except... he didn't want to. Part of him was scared but the other part was... jealous. It was obvious that Martha cared deeply about this Doctor. Having lived as The Doctor in his dreams, John felt confident saying that the time-traveling alien couldn't love Martha nearly as much as he—John Smith the human—did.

There they were—in that abandoned house—he, Martha, Joan Redfern, and Tim Latimer. Truth be told, he wasn't even paying attention to Joan or Tim. His attention was entirely focused on Martha.

"Please. Just open the watch," she pleaded.

"And if I don't?" he asked quietly.

"If you don't, the whole world will end. Here. In 1913."

"He probably doesn't love you as much as I do."

"I don't care."

Oh, he wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn't open that watch but then... he realized he couldn't exactly force her to love him back. He took a deep breath and then held his hand out. "Okay."

Martha's eyes widened in surprise but she handed over the fob watch.

Immediately he could hear voices—voices that told him who he was and what he needed to do and what he had done in the past. It scared him. "I—I'm sorry, I can't do this."

"Yes you can!" she insisted. She walked over to him and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "If you won't do it for the rest of the world, will you at least do it for me?"

Why did she have to say that? He sighed and looked down at the watch in his hand. Martha stepped back to look into his eyes. "Please?" She said.

He looked at her and then nodded. She smiled gently and before he knew it, her lips were pressed against his.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as the kiss deepened. And then he opened the watch.

* * *

Martha stood outside the TARDIS with The Doctor. He was back to normal now—which meant everything he had felt as John Smith was gone. She smiled sadly at the thought.

They said goodbye to Tim and then The Doctor turned to her. "Martha, I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me while I was John Smith."

"Of course." She remembered the kiss she had shared with the human version of The Doctor and she quickly added, "Just so you know, I would have done anything to get you to change back." It was a lie and they both knew it.

The Doctor just nodded before opening the door to the TARDIS. Martha headed to her room while The Doctor got the TARDIS into the vortex. She was halfway there when she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She gasped.

The Doctor pulled her close and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "By the way, I love you too Martha Jones."


	3. Reach For The Sky

**A/N**: So... here we have the third and last chapter of "Still Alive"! I'd like to thank all my awesome readers for being awesome and sending me nice reviews. =] And I'd like to give a special thanks to _**le petit lionne**_ because she's amazing and has been a _huge_ help with this fic. ^_^ Also a special thanks to**_ Hoshi Gin Tsukino_** for also being a great sounding board even if she hates fluff. Anyway, this chapter is pretty fluffy and I just hope I didn't overdo it. Feedback is always appreciated!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything! The title of this chapter belongs to Social Distortion. I'm not entirely sure how it relates to the chapter but it's a great song and sounded poetic enough to work...

* * *

"So, where are we off too next, Miss Jones?" The Doctor asked.

Martha listened to him ramble on and on about the various alien species he'd encountered and the planets he had visited and something about Agatha Christie. It just made her even more sad to think that she couldn't go on all these adventures with him.

After his admission of love right after Farringham, they had a lot of issues to work through—why he had ignored her and made her feel second best and who Rose was. He revealed to her that he was attracted to her almost immediately but he had so much baggage and so much angst that he didn't want to let her in. What changed in Farringham was the fact that he didn't have all that Time Lord angst getting in the way and it allowed him to truly admit that he cared about her.

Then there was the Weeping Angels. They ended up getting stuck in 1969 for four months. Even though Martha still faced her fair share of racism, 1969 was much more bearable than 1913. In 1969, she had The Doctor—not John Smith (no matter how nice he was to her). She hated her job in a shop and she hated her boss but The Doctor always made it up to her. And he never stopped apologizing for getting them stuck there in the first place.

Finally, there was what Martha had started calling "The Year That Never Was". One full year of walking the Earth while The Doctor, Jack, and her family were stuck on _The Valiant_. She had no idea if they were alive or even if this plan of The Doctor's was even going to work. But she kept walking and spreading the word about The Doctor and hoped that she would see him again.

Since reversing the year, she and The Doctor had been inseparable. But now it was time for her to go—whether she liked it or not.

The Doctor looked over and noticed her lack of enthusiasm, which stopped his rambling in its tracks. He wandered over to her and pulled her into his arms. "Martha, what's wrong?"

"My family needs me. I can't travel with you." Her voice was muffled since she had her face buried in his chest.

The Doctor rubbed her back gently and held her close. "Of course. I understand."

Martha pulled back and smiled sadly. "Then I guess this is goodbye."

The Doctor looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well I know you don't exactly do domestic and I can't expect you not to go on saving the Universe." She looked away and blinked away the tears that were forming. She wouldn't cry—not in front of him.

The Doctor put a hand to her cheek and forced her to look at him. "Martha Jones, you walked the entire world to save this planet. The least I can do is stick around until you're ready to travel with me again."

Her eyes widened as his words hit her. "Really?"

He nodded and braced himself as she threw her arms around him. He picked her up and hugged her close before kissing her. "I love you, Martha."

She buried her face in his neck. "I love you too, Doctor."

* * *

The Doctor was fiddling around under the TARDIS console when his ship alerted him of something—Martha was having a nightmare.

He almost banged his head up in his haste to get out the TARDIS, where it was parked in the Jones's living room. He made his way upstairs to Martha's room, and he didn't have to guess which one it was. He could hear her sobbing.

He opened the door quietly, so as not to wake up the other members of the family, and he saw Martha thrashing about on her bed, crying and begging an unknown entity to have mercy. He was by her side in an instant, shaking her awake.

She woke with a start and for a second, didn't seem to realize where she was. She had broken out into a cold sweat and she was breathing hard.

Martha's eyes landed on The Doctor and before he knew it, she had her arms thrown around his neck and she was crying on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and rubbed her back as she cried.

She cried for what seemed like hours and when she had finally calmed down a bit, he asked quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

He felt her shake her head furiously. He pulled back gently so he could look at her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was running, and tears were streaked down her face. He wiped them away gently before producing a box of tissues from his suit jacket pocket (bigger on the inside). While she cleaned herself up, he removed his shoes, socks, suit jacket, and button-up shirt—leaving him in just his blue suit trousers and a white t-shirt.

The Doctor sat down on the bed and pulled Martha into his lap. She grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and buried her face into his neck. He brushed the hair from her sweaty forehead and kissed it before hugging her close.

* * *

Martha tried to shake off the remnants of her nightmare but it was too much. She tried to focus on The Doctor's double heartbeats—it always calmed her down in the past.

She remembered when they were stuck in 1969. She had learned to deal with the racist remarks and the annoying customers but she was starting to miss her family. And that's when she saw someone who looked like her younger brother, Leo, as she was walking home from work. She knew he wasn't him, but it didn't stop her from becoming even more homesick.

The Doctor looked up from his timey-wimey detector as she walked through the door. Martha didn't see the frown on his face when she failed to say hello and simply walked to the tiny bedroom in their tiny flat.

He gave it at least ten minutes before deciding to check on her. He could tell that it wasn't a racist remark from someone at work or an annoying customer—she would have walked through the door already ranting. She didn't get upset about those situations—she got angry.

When he pushed open the bedroom door, he found Martha, curled up on the bed, trying not to cry.

"Martha?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Oh! You scared me." She let out a shaky laugh.

"What's wrong?"

He could tell she was about to reply with "nothing" and he gave her a look. She sighed. "I saw someone who looked like Leo today."

The Doctor knew that was her younger brother. Since they were only two years apart, they had a close bond.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched Martha's shoulder gently. "Feeling homesick?"

She sat up and nodded. "Don't get me wrong. I love traveling with you. It's just..." she trailed off.

The Doctor pulled her into his lap and held her tightly. "As soon as we get the TARDIS back we'll visit your family for a bit, okay?"

She smiled and lay her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head.

A few days later, Martha came home from work and rather than retreat to the bedroom like she had the first time, she immediately walked over to where The Doctor was sitting on the couch.

He had been working on his "timey-wimey detector (that goes ding when there's stuff)" when she walked in but he set it aside and held his arms out to her.

Once she was curled up in his lap again, he asked quietly, "Did you see him again?"

She shook her head. "It was worse. My mum." She hastily added, "Don't worry, she didn't see me."

The Doctor knew that, while Francine could be a bit overbearing, Martha was extremely close to her mother and he could see why she was upset.

They sat there for what seemed like hours—The Doctor stroking Martha's hair and she listening to his double heartbeat—before Martha finally got up to make dinner.

From that point on, whenever she was upset, The Doctor was always there to comfort her.

* * *

Martha brought herself back to the present moment. Her heartbeat had slowed down considerably and she was much calmer—calm enough to talk about her nightmare (she hoped).

"I had a nightmare about... about the year."

The Doctor had suspected that much, but he wanted to wait for her to talk to him rather than the other way around. "Want to talk about it?" He asked quietly, still stroking her hair gently.

She looked up at him. "I think I have to. Otherwise how am I going to move on?"

The Doctor nodded his agreement and waited for her to continue. She was hesitant at first but eventually the whole story came pouring out—avoiding the toclofane, being the only person to get out Japan alive, not knowing if her family was safe or still alive, all the death and destruction. She told him every last detail and was shaking and crying by the end of it.

The Doctor, meanwhile, was fighting back tears of his own. He knew the year had been rough on her but he had no idea just how _much_. While he was stuck on _The_ _Valient_, his Martha Jones was walking the entire earth—risking her life every step of the way—to save the human race. She had saved the world. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for what you did, Martha," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "It's not like I had much choice, is there?" She wasn't angry, but rather, simply speaking the truth.

The Doctor kissed the top of her head. "Oh Martha Jones. You know, if I could take the memories away, I would."

"I know you would," she agreed. She had stopped crying and The Doctor produced the box of tissues for her again.

Once she had wiped her eyes and blown her nose, she took a few deep breaths, which seemed to calm her down. "Feeling a bit better?" The Doctor asked and was glad to get a nod in response. "Do you think you can get back to sleep?" Another nod.

Martha got off of his lap and watched as he pulled the covers back and adjusted the pillows. "Will you stay?" She asked timidly.

He stopped what he was doing to look at her. "Of course." He had actually been confused when she insisted earlier that he work on the TARDIS while she slept. He went along with it because he didn't need to sleep as much as she did and the TARDIS _was_ still recovering from her year of being turned into a paradox machine.

The Doctor asked, "Martha, how long have you been having these nightmares?" He'd reversed the year a week ago and he and Martha had been almost inseparable since then. This was the first night she had slept alone.

Martha looked down. "Since you reversed the year? This is the first night. But... during the year..." She paused and took a deep breath. "During the year it got pretty bad."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "You don't need to sleep as much as I do and I know the TARDIS has been in pretty bad shape."

That was Martha—always putting others before herself. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Right now, you're more important. The TARDIS was the one who alerted me about your nightmare, you know."

Martha looked up at him. "Really? She was the one who told me _you_ were having a nightmare that first time." She could still remember that odd, out of order conversation she had had with the sentient ship.

The Doctor smiled. "She looks out for both of us. But my point is, even she doesn't want you hurting."

Martha said a silent "thank you" to the ship, hoping her message got through. She hadn't realized that the TARDIS cared about her so much.

She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on The Doctor's lips. "Thank you. For everything."

He kissed her back. "Don't mention it. I love you."

She echoed the sentiment and then yawned. Talking about her nightmare had taken up the better part of at least two hours and she was drained, both emotionally and physically.

The Doctor picked her up and gently set her down on the bed. He waited for her to crawl under the covers and get situated before crawling in next to her.

Martha drifted off to sleep with her arm draped across his stomach and her head on his chest—listening to his double heartbeat.


End file.
